


The Rings

by 3rdstarksistr



Series: Sansan Kink [5]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, BDSM, Belts, Dom!Sandor, F/M, Kink, Sandor POV, Spanking, sub!Sansa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-18
Updated: 2017-03-18
Packaged: 2018-10-06 23:07:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10346646
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3rdstarksistr/pseuds/3rdstarksistr
Summary: After being released from prison and staying with Sansa for a couple weeks, Sandor sets up his new place and takes Sansa there for the first time. He has plans for her there that involve a wall and a lot of pain.





	

One hand on the steering wheel, Sandor reaches over to the little bird and squeezes her thigh. He glances over to see a light in her eyes and a pleased, little smile as she tilts her head up at him. So sweet.

Turning back to the road, he feels a heaviness on him. He hates he’s back doing what he’s doing, but the money is too good. Better she not know. He grits his teeth, she'd wonder if she knew. How would she handle knowing he knew her long before that fateful day? The pretty little bird with that cunt of a boy. 

“You’re living a ways out of the city?” Sansa asks. It has been awhile he’s been driving since picking her up.

“Wanted some privacy.”

“Oh,” she says, and he can hear her mind thinking. “So, your job is going well still?”

“Yes.” He turns off the main road and goes down a couple streets before pulling into a drive with a small, white house.

“A house?” She says with surprise, turning to him.

“It’s not like it’s a mansion, just renting it.”

He takes her inside, watching her closely as she looks around the sparse living room.

"I can go with you to get some things," she looks to him.

"Don't need it."

She bites her lips before moving into the kitchen. "You're sure you have everything you need?" She asks.

"Just about," he says, grabbing her waist to pull her up on the island. His hands slide down her thighs, then back up, edging under her skirt.

"Sandor," she says.

"Mhm?" He answers, trailing up her neck, taking in her sweet, soft scent while surrounded by her auburn hair.

"Why have you been gone at nights? Is there something you aren't telling me?"

He sighs, pulling back to see her big, worried blue eyes.

She continues, "I just want to make you happy with me. Did I do something? Is there someone?"

"What if there was someone?"

He can see her almost deflate, her eyes fall from his.

"There isn't, but there could be," he tells her.

"I don't want that," she mumbles.

"Look at me." She raises her head, but he can see the sadness there, the glassy quality of unshed tears. "You belong to me, but it is your choice. You can walk away. You are not in control here though." She looks up, scrunching her eyes closed.

"No, look at me. Do you understand?"

She looks back at him, and though he can see the hurt and doubt in her eyes, she answers, "Yes, Sir."

"Good, come see the rest of the house."

He leads her through the other rooms before heading into his bedroom. He goes to the closet to retrieve his leather cuffs. Turning back, he sees her looking around, and smirks when he sees her gaze stop on the heavy D-rings protruding from one of the walls.

"What are those?" She asks. He loves the tinge of uncertainty, fear even, her eyes carry now.

"You'll see," he tells her. "Now take off your clothes.”

She looks up at him, questioning, but he just raises his eyebrows at her. She then does as she’s told.

“All of it,” he says when she’s down to her underwear. She removes the last bits and then she’s naked before him, and the sight always stirs him. Gods, she’s absolutely stunning. She smiles a little, enjoying his appraisal. They exchange a look, but then he’s telling her, “Now, hold your arms up to me." She looks puzzled but does as she's told. She's quiet, watching him, as he encloses the leather around her wrist, needling the strap through the buckle to the right hole for the prong. He takes the other one and straps in her other wrist.

He holds onto them, telling her, "Try to pull out."

"Yes, Sir," she says, taking a step back to try and pull out of the cuffs, but they won't pass her wrists.

"Good," he says. Then, he takes her head in his hands, looking at her. She brightens under his gaze, her lips turning up in a pleased smile. "You trust me?" He asks her.

"Always, Sir."

There's a lightness to him at her words, the twitch of his lip that no one would dare say was a smile but his habitual scowl is gone. His fingers thread through her hair, fanning those copper locks down her back, smooth as fresh summer grass in his hands. Damn him to all seven hells if he ever hurt her. He's already a damned soul though, and though she be as righteous as the Maiden, there's no saving him. In his deep rasp, he voices, "I'm no good for you, little bird."

"What?" She says, her pretty brow all scrunched at the shift in his thoughts.

"I'm not. The things I'll ask of you..." He shakes his head as he takes one of his large, veined hands and wraps it around her thin, soft throat, pressing lightly. He can feel the pump of her blood circulating.

"Sandor," she says with a hint of struggle, just enough to draw at him and make him revel in her, helpless and desperate, under his hold.

"Yes, little bird?" He responds, releasing her.

She breathes in deeply. "I want you, please," she says softly, her little hands coming up to try and wrap around his fingers.

He kisses her forehead and pulls her against his chest with his arms wrapped around her. His gaze though settles on those metal rings.

He sighs, feeling her calm in his arms. He looses his hold and tips her chin up until her eyes meet his own. "Think you can be a good little bird and stand under those rings.”

“Yes, Sir.” Sansa takes a few measured steps, turning around by the wall, "Here?"

The corner of his mouth pulls into a smirk as he approaches her, his hand coming up to her nipple playfully. "You're sure you want to face me?" He asks, as he starts to pinch down on it, her smile withering as her eyes start to plead with him.

She opens her mouth, whimpering as he twists, and barely gets out, "Sandor, please." She whines, whimpering more, and desperation fills her eyes. He releases her, only to smack the side of her breast with the solid weight of his palm. She gasps for air, a tinge of fear in her eyes.

"Around," he tells her. "Arms up."

She turns around, extending her little arms up. He guides one cuffed wrist toward the ring on the wall, locking her in, and then the other. They're about perfect placement for her. He steps back, feeling satisfied in seeing her stretched out.

"Your legs, too, don't make me spread them for you."

She widens her legs, and he steps closer to take a cheek of her ass in his hand, squeezing it hard. His hand then slips down under, reaching to stroke her pussy. She whimpers as he circles her slowly before pushing up inside her. Her head falls back, ribbons of copper strands trailing down over her soft, pale flesh. He presses against her body, trapping her on the wall. "Why are you all wet?"

"For you, Sir," she answers. She moans as he strokes in and out of her. He pulls out his fingers and places them in her mouth. "Suck," he tells her. She does as she's told, sucking her juices off his fingers. He then takes her hair and drapes it over her chest, freeing her back.

Stepping back, Sandor unbuckles his belt and slips it off. The belt he doubles in his hand, and he breathes in deep, looking over her body on the wall before him. He reaches out to trail the leather over her skin, seeing her flinch slightly at its first touch. He bends down and takes the skin on the back of her neck in his teeth and bites down hard. He can practically feel the shiver go through her as she moans slightly. His girl, His toy. He releases her skin to tell her, “Every inch of you is mine.”

“Yes, Sir,” she responds.

He looks down at the soft, round flesh of her ass curving out from her back. He then grips the belt and strikes her right across it. Not too hard, just a start, still the impact makes her hands shift, the cuffs clanging with the metal rings they’re attached to.

Sandor then takes the belt and lands light blows down the right side of her back, then the left. She whines, the clank of metal filling the room again. He keeps doing this, picking up the pace until he steps to the side and lays a hard lash to her ass. She cries out then and tries to close in her legs.

“Sansa,” he says harshly, nudging the inner part of her legs with the belt. She reacts quickly by moving her feet back wide.

He takes the belt then and starts making stripes up her thighs. “Sandor,” she pleads, pitifully, at his quick, stinging strokes, and he can see her twist, wincing, at some of them, trying her hardest to keep her legs still. He stops to rub his hand over her ass and thighs, feeling the heat as the skin starts to pink. He gets close, running his hand over the back of her head, and kisses her temple.

He then returns to laying blows across her back, slower but harder. The rhythmic sound of the slaps fills the room and are only echoed by her cries. Energy surges in him as everything fades to just him, her, and the belt in his hand. Her breathing has picked back up, and she moans deliciously when the belt lands square across her back. He breathes in deeply, pleased by every moan, every whimper, every scream. He alternates sides, red marks like wings on her back. He then takes a moment, looks at the belt then back at her and lands a hard blow to right side, making her scream, the red imprint of the belt a clear stripe on her skin. “Sandor, no,” she says then, and he can hear the tears in her voice. Still, he hits her even harder on the left, and she screams, sagging on the restraints slightly as her knees buckle.

He pants slightly, the belt still in hand, and watches her tremble and cry. He comes up behind her, his hand grasping those pretty red strands he had petted before and presses her towards the wall, making her turn her head to the side and her knees come back up. He comes up beside her then, looking into her eyes. They’re glassy with tears but also wild and unfocused. “I’m not done,” he tells her. She seems to register him then, her eyes starting to lock on his own and he can see her breathing ease. She nods, “Yes, Sir.”

Twisting his grip on her hair, Sandor then lands a hard blow on her ass, making her yelp and then whine. He goes lower, hitting her on the bottom of her ass, making her moan, but she can barely enjoy that pleasure when he hits her quick with stings to the sides, near her hips. He had been saving this part, and now he doesn’t relent. He lands lash after lash with the belt to her ass. He hears her cries, but he listens for the one word she has. He slows down a little only to hit her square across the ass harder. She screams, and he sees her shake slightly. He aims lower, hitting her across the top of her thighs. She cries but then he can hear the pleasure there.

He drops the belt then, and just smacks her square on the cheek with his bare hand. She isn’t expecting it, so he hears her gasp loudly. He spanks the other and then right in the middle hard. She cries out but ends with the most precious, keening sound of pleasure. He can’t stop now. He lands another smack and massages into it, making her wince and get up on her tip toes. He lands another hard blow to the center, it hurting his hand near as much as her. It throws her off center, and he hears the metal of the cuffs clang. Still, she makes the sweetest whine, and he just takes a cheek in hand grips it hard, making her yelp. He comes up to her ear, telling her, “You’re my little pain slut now.”

He panting breaths sound sweet, and she nods, twisting her face around trying to find him. He comes up beside her and can see her half-lidded eyes, as she tells him, “Yes, Sir.” He smacks her ass again, looking into her eyes, and can see the pain hit her. Again he hits her, just to see the intensity of it in her eyes, and to see her sink into the pleasure of it. It’s a beautiful thing. Twisted as fuck, but beautiful.

He lands more and more blows, just to hear her cry out and moan at the mix of sensations he racks on her. He picks up the belt to finish her with a few more hard blows to her ass, beating her until she can only hang from her cuffs locked to the wall. Her whole back is red. Panting, he comes up to her and holds her against him as he removes the locks and releases her from the wall. She’s trembling, the crying stopped awhile ago, but she’s spaced way out. She only slips out of his grip, but he makes sure he has both hands on her and practically carries her the few steps to his bed. He lays her down, pulls out a blanket to cover her with and then lays down next to her. 

“Sansa?” He says, worry clear in his tone.

Her little eyes try to open, and then the biggest smile comes on her face. Relief goes through him. He rubs his thumb across her face, and she pulls the blanket closer and gets closer to him.

“You alright?” He asks.

“That was more,” she says. “I didn’t think it could be like that.”

“More? Like what?”

“Just… everything… just good.” She says, and he smirks at her trying to make sense of it. He pulls her closer instead, letting her nestle against him. His eyes close, and he sighs heavy, feeling himself coming down from somewhere. Hells, if he understands any of this, but having her there, broken and hanging from his wall, and then to be this smiling, content little girl in his arms. It is just good.

**Author's Note:**

> All characters belong to George R. R. Martin. Not trying to profit here.


End file.
